


Fate Reversed

by Emerald_Heart12



Series: Dear Player [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Leads the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Akechi Goro Needs a Hug, Akechi Goro and Sakura Futaba Are Half-Siblings, Akechi Goro has Confidants, Kurusu Akira needs a hug, M/M, Persona 5 Protagonist Has A Palace, Role Reversal, akira is just. not okay At All, because i LIVE for that futago brotp, because obviously, djfklhsv i don't know how to tag but i'll add more as they show up i guess?, kind of bad end? except not really, mostly goro pov, okay i'm kidding, that's it that's the whole fic, this is the actual fic part of 'Dear Player' as promised!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Heart12/pseuds/Emerald_Heart12
Summary: When reversed, The World represents delayed success, a lack of completion, and failed plans.The reset worked. Except it isn't the same this time. When the cards are reversed, will you stay a prisoner of freedom?
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Persona 5 Protagonist & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, i'll add background ships later
Series: Dear Player [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542418
Comments: 22
Kudos: 128





	1. The World, Reversed

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I've just been very excited for this fic overall?? It's been in my mind for a while and now that the letters in Dear Player are done, I can finally get started on this! Bear in mind that as of the say I'm first posting this, I don't _really_ know where I'm trying to go with this, but I've got a number of solid ideas and I hope you'll enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you'll probably have noticed that I've edited this, so this fic is now being written in present tense instead of past tense! I feel like it flows a lot better that way. Enjoy!

If Goro Akechi were to be honest with himself, he would admit that he hated meetings with the police. Yet here he is, listening to the SIU director drone on and on, going on about the mental shutdowns and how they’ll affect Japan’s politics and economy.

It’s just like these disgusting politicians, Goro thinks, to pretend their intentions are noble to gain face and power. The director himself is a prime example—the man in charge of Japan’s Special Investigation Unit, taking advantage of his placement within the police to get ahead by having people killed for the sole sake of garnering money and power. 

The only reason he _has_ his position in the first place is because his predecessor suffered as a victim of the recent “mysterious rampaging incidents” and was deemed unfit to be in charge. Of course, this very man was the one who’d requested for the previous director to suffer a rampage in the first place, at the price of his eternal loyalty.

(Or alternatively, as the public likes to refer to the rampage incidents as, “psychotic breakdowns”. Goro finds it quite ridiculous—he doesn’t turn them psychotic. All he does is break the chains on their innermost selves, allowing them to act without fear of consequence. Everything they did on their own is a result of the overwhelming need to express that onslaught of withheld emotion.)

Thankfully, all the director knows about the incidents is that they’re orchestrated by Masayoshi Shido, and that they were done through the Metaverse. Goro’s fairly sure that Shido’s the only one who knows that he’s the one carrying out the (both literal and figurative) execution of the rampages and shutdowns.

“Oh, and one more thing, Akechi-kun,” the director says, shifting his attention to Goro. 

Goro sits up a little straighter. “Yes, sir?”

“You haven’t been informed of this until now, but after lengths of discussion, we decided that we will be temporarily asking you to decrease your activity within the recent cases.” 

Goro narrows his eyes, careful to look suspicious, but not accusatory. “May I know the reason for this, sir? I believe I have been an integral part of solving the mental shutdown cases as of now. With regards to that, don’t you think it would be counterproductive to take me off these cases?”

The director shakes his head, almost patronising. Goro can’t stand it. “You won’t be removed from the case completely. We have received a request from a rather . . . influential politician to keep an eye on a certain individual. I speak about a teenager about your age who was recently arrested for assault and was transferred to Tokyo for his probation.”

“Probation . . . ?” Goro echoes, not quite sure what to make of it. On the one hand, it would add more into his already full schedule, what with his schoolwork (which he’s already behind on), his now-‘reduced’ detective work, and his . . . side job for Shido. Plus, there would be the issue of all his public appearances and media showings which he has to keep up with, and the multitude of restaurants and cafes he wants to check out for his food blog and to restock on conversational topics. Babysitting criminals is simply something he doesn’t have time to do.

Goro sighs. “With all due respect, sir, I must decline. I’m sure there would be someone more apt for the position—an adult, perhaps?—who would be a much better fit for this role.”

One of Goro’s superiors shakes his head, even _more_ patronising. “Nobody else has the time. Besides, you’d be far better than any of us would be at reforming a teenage criminal, Akechi-kun, since you’re his age and all.” _What a way to say you’re dumping the jobs you don’t want on me._

The director nods, seemingly oblivious. “Indeed. Not to worry, it shouldn’t be too much of an invasion of your personal life, since his board and school has already been arranged. All you will need to do is . . . check in on him, until he reforms.” 

Ridiculous. This entire situation is completely ridiculous. What’s the point of that, really? To make sure he doesn’t act out of line or to report even the slightest suspicious move?

“Thank you for agreeing,” the man from before chuckles. “It saves a lot of work for us _real_ detectives, you know?”

Goro’s hands twitch, but he smiles brightly at the man who’s clearly trying so hard to mock him. “You’re very welcome. I have faith that you _real_ detectives will soon get a handle on the culprit for the recent mental shutdown incidents, now that this burden is off your shoulders.” Goro’s fully aware that he never agreed in the first place, but this man is testing his patience.

The man scowls, pleasant exterior dropping. “You little—”

“I’m sure you’re also fully aware of the similarities of the instances in which both the psychotic breakdowns”—Goro really hates calling them that—“and the mental shutdowns took place? Well, good luck with your investigation, _Detective_ -san.” Goro turns back to the director, his own polite smile still secure on his face. 

The director sighs. “Well, Akechi-kun, the details will be sent to you this evening.” Utterly ridiculous. 

“Of course, sir.” _When I’m finally done dealing with Shido . . . there won’t be any need to pander to these incompetent fools._

* * *

In the evening, Goro finds himself looking into the records sent by the director about this transfer. Apparently, the teenager in question was arrested on physical assault charges, having been sued by an unnamed party. 

_Not many people can have sued someone while remaining anonymous._ Goro’s fairly sure of who may have been the one to press the charges: the director mentioned an influential politician, and if power and loyalty were the main ties here, Goro’s almost certain that Shido’s the one behind it. Especially considering the fact that the director is more than willing to lick Shido’s shoes to keep his position. _Pathetic._

_Shido wouldn’t want this marring his reputation . . . so I wonder what reason a teenager from the countryside would have to attack a politician?_ Privately, Goro thinks it might be amusing to get on good terms with this kid just to spite Shido. 

Goro dismisses the thought and turns back to the file. He’s meant to meet with this transfer—Akira Kurusu, apparently—on Sunday. 

A breath hisses through his teeth—it’s on the same day that he’s meant to target the engineer of the train one of Shido’s associates (or more accurately, one of his minions) wants to crash. He would definitely be tired from having to make that trip to Mementos, but . . . he would have to suck it up and deal with it. 

Goro’s only consolation is that it's only another year or two that he has to keep up with this exhausting triple life schedule. 

Goro glances at the locked desk drawer in his room, containing the most critical pieces of evidence he’s collected over the last three years: the file, the key to his master plan to ruin Masayoshi Shido—complete with a list and evidence of all his past crimes from before the mental shutdowns and rampages; copies of various exploitation contracts he’s made with various politicians and corporate executives; histories of large sums of money being transferred from various shady sources; and most importantly, DNA evidence of him fathering two children he refused to acknowledge and support: himself, and Futaba Isshiki.

_—Futaba Isshiki, whose mother he killed—_

When all that information gets leaked to the public, Shido will be completely ruined. His image and reputation would take a massive hit, and Goro would be the one handling his arrest with Sae-san—he doesn’t trust the rest of the police to do it, given that half of them are in league with Shido. In fact, he’ll expose the identities of Shido’s conspirators as well, just to be safe. 

Perhaps he’ll have to make _Shido_ rampage, after he’s tried in court, right before which he’ll neatly present the audio recordings he’s taken inconspicuously wherein Shido can be clearly heard instructing Goro how to take out the various targets he’s given him. 

And Shido will be forced to confess everything. Even if he successfully implicates Goro, Shido will still have to face the death penalty, or if he’s lucky, a life sentence in jail. And besides, the odds of the police believing in the Metaverse are low. Any sensible interrogator would assume that Shido was mad.

Goro turns his eyes back to his laptop screen, skimming through details on Kurusu’s hometown, background, and history. For the most part, Kurusu seemed to be an ordinary teenager up until his first year of high school, had decent grades, and an ordinary home life. Completely plain, nothing out of the ordinary. Goro keeps scrolling, skimming until he gets to Kurusu’s mugshot—

Which makes him stop instantly. 

Somehow, there's something in Kurusu’s expression, in the way he looks in the photo that makes Goro feel as though he’s looking _through_ it, directly at him. 

Goro can’t help but stare back. 

There’s something defiant in Kurusu’s eyes. Bitter, even, filled with anger that he didn’t hide. 

Perhaps this may end up being more interesting than just unwanted work from the SIU director—it could even prove to be worthwhile. 

In the back of Goro’s mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Loki’s nags at him about loneliness. He ignores it pointedly as he goes back to the file. 

_Probation officer: Sojiro Sakura._

Why does the name seem familiar?

Then it hits him—Sae mentioned the name the last time she treated Goro to dinner. Something about the custody of a child, if Goro recalls correctly. 

Deciding he wants to be as prepared for this meeting as he can be, he calls her. “Hello, Sae-san. My apologies for disturbing you at this hour, but—”

“Um . . . hello?” The voice that responds to him is not Sae’s. It’s younger, higher, and significantly more uncertain, belonging to the younger Niijima. Plus, Goro doesn’t think he’s ever heard Sae say “um” in his life. 

“Niijima-san,” he greets politely. He’s met Makoto Niijima a handful of times before, over dinners with Sae, and each time was underwhelming. She isn’t too unlike her sister in terms of intelligence and capability, but where Sae is ambitious and fights her way to the top, her sister is obedient and conforming, only ever doing what’s expected of her. 

Exactly the type of person Goro can’t stand—mindless rule followers that never do anything to escape the status quo, stuck in the rat race forever, doing as they’re told and led around like mindless sheep. 

The type of person that’s exactly the reason someone like Masayoshi Shido has so much power. All they look for is a leader with charisma; a sheepdog to lead the flock. 

“Sis is in the shower right now,” Niijima says apologetically. “Would you like me to pass on a message?”

“I’d appreciate it, thank you,” Goro says politely, because rebuking her would be childish and immature. “Just tell her that Akechi had a few urgent questions that need answering, preferably as soon as possible. 

“Of course. Goodnight, Akechi-kun.”

“Yes, you too.”

Goro puts his phone down as Niijima hangs up. _She goes to Shujin Academy, if I’m not mistaken. That’s the same place that Kurusu transfers to starting from Monday._

And then: _Now that I think about it, the principal there is one of Shido’s affiliates as well. Given Kurusu’s record, it’s hard to imagine that a fancy prep school like that would be so willing to accept him. Why keep such a close eye on him?_

Goro already knows the answer, of course: Shido can’t afford to let a court scandal mar the steady traction he’s been gaining lately. It would be minimal effort on Shido’s part to convince a school principal to comply.

Goro leans back in his chair, glancing at the file again. _Sojiro Sakura . . . Sojiro Sakura . . ._

Unbidden, the memory of a gruff voice and a plate of hot curry comes to mind, accompanied by a warm hand resting on one of his shoulders. 

His mother’s hands were always cold when she touched him, like they’d always been just washed. So . . .

Goro shakes his head, trying to focus on the memory—short black hair, a kind face, hot coffee—

_Wakaba Isshiki._

It hits Goro all at once: Sojiro Sakura was the intermediary between Isshiki and Shido, back when she was still alive. Hell, he’s _met_ Sakura before. 

But as far as he knows, Sakura and Shido have been _long_ since out of contact. Sakura’s completely off Shido’s radar, so could this just be a coincidence? 

It’s then that Goro’s phone rings, interrupting any further scope of thought. 

He scrambles to pick it up, not bothering to check the caller ID— _Shido, it could be Shido, compose yourself_ — “Hello?”

“Akechi-kun, Makoto said you called earlier?” It’s Sae, and Goro can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. 

Relief aside, Goro can’t help but be in awe—it’s been less than ten minutes since he called. Either Sae had been nearly out of the shower by then, or she took _really_ quick showers. 

It’s probably both, Goro decides, slightly envious. His own routine usually keeps him in the bathroom for almost an hour each morning, yet Sae can be that quick and still look flawless? Where’s the justice in that?

“Akechi-kun?”

“Ah— my apologies, Sae-san. I did have a question: I recall you mentioning a _Sojiro Sakura_ sometime back. Could you perhaps jog my memory?”

“What brings this on?”

Goro sighs. “Curt as always, I see.” Well, there’s no reason to lie, especially to Sae-san (for multiple reasons, one being that she’d know immediately, another being that she could _find out_ pretty easily, and the last being that Goro doesn’t particularly like lying to Sae-san specifically). “The director requested I keep an eye on a teenager who moved to Tokyo on probation, and his probation officer is an individual named Sojiro Sakura.”

When Sae next speaks, her voice is tinged with concern. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle the added workload?”

Does she think he can’t do it? He can manage having the consistently highest grades at school, solving the cases the director had assigned to him, assassinations from Shido, elaborately planning ways to frame Shido’s competitors for the “mishaps”, strengthening himself in the Metaverse, and gathering evidence on Shido for all his crimes. He can handle one more measly thing with ease. 

Goro’s _perfectly_ in control of his life, thank you.

“Sae-san,” he says brusquely, “your lack of belief in my ability to multitask aside, I’ve been asked to temporarily shift my focus from the cases to this until further notice.”

He’s worked hard to impress Sae, to play the part of the effortless genius detective, so he’s miffed that she thinks he can’t handle it. 

“It’s not a ‘lack of belief’, Akechi-kun, it’s concern. It isn’t humanly possible for you to be able to focus on schoolwork, the cases, monitoring a kid on probation _and_ your personal life. You don’t even spend any time with your friends— say, Akechi-kun, would you say you have friends?”

This is starting to feel like an interrogation, and Goro doesn’t like it. “Aren’t _you_ my friend, Sae-san?” _Of course not, to her I’m probably a coworker at most._

“Huh. Well . . .” She pauses, and Goro can hear the smile in her voice when she next speaks. “I suppose I am, aren’t I?”

Oh. 

_Oh._

This is awkward. 

Goro’s never had a friend before. 

But . . . it’s, well. It’s nice, now that he thinks about it, to have someone’s genuine approval. Especially since Sae’s someone he admires so much. 

“Still, though,” she continues, like Goro hasn’t just had a mind breaking revelation 

_—you of all people would know mind breaking—_

and been sent reeling, “You should have friends your age, Akechi-kun. How many people call you by your first name?” Sae presses, not letting up in the slightest. 

Goro hasn’t been addressed by his first name in years. 

Not that he’s going to tell her that. Instead, he points out, “ _You_ don’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment; Goro knows she’s already figured him out. He wishes she wasn’t so perceptive. Then, “Goro-kun.”

Goro sighs. “You win.”

“Good.” She sounds smug. “As I was saying, it’s important to be able to communicate with people your age. I keep telling Makoto the same thing. At least give it a try?”

Goro doesn’t realise he’s pouting until he recomposes himself. As childish and petty as it may be, he doesn’t _want_ to try. He doesn’t need _friends_ ; has never needed them. What he _needs_ is to see the look on Masayoshi Shido’s face when he completely _ruins_ him.

“Sae-san, while I appreciate your concern about my social life, I have more pressing matters at hand that I must deal with before I can make time for purposeless friendships.” 

It’s subtle, but Goro does hope that Sae takes it to mean that he values _her_ friendship. 

“If it comes to it, perhaps I’ll befriend my new ward. Now, back to the matter at hand . . .”

Sae sighs, but she acquiesces. “Sojiro Sakura, right? To summarise: up until a few years ago, he worked with the government on a cognitive psience project led by Wakaba Isshiki. Lately, we’ve been trying to find out if he has any data of Isshiki’s regarding the first psychotic breakdowns, as some of the earlier ones trace back to Isshiki and the project.”

 _Sakura . . . Isshiki . . . Kurusu . . . Shido . . . and me. Everyone’s connected, somehow . . ._

“Furthermore, there might also be grounds to take him into questioning on cases of abuse over the fact that his adopted daughter hasn’t been seen leaving the Sakura residence since he took her in.”

“Adopted . . . daughter?” From what Goro recalls of Sakura, he didn’t seem like the kind who would ever want a child. 

Then again, he didn’t seem like the kind who would shelter a teenage criminal for their probation, either. 

“Futaba Sakura,” Sae explains, and Goro almost drops his phone. “Following Isshiki’s death, Futaba was passed around her relatives before Sakura took her in.”

Goro knows how uncomfortable (and even _cruel_ ) foster families can be, especially when it comes to a child born out of wedlock. 

Goro had met Futaba Isshiki, once. She was a little shy, but she was kind and friendly. Not the kind of person who deserves to be thrust into a life of neglect. 

Not like Goro. 

And, while his mind is still on Futaba . . . and considering that Isshiki’s research was the whole reason she was targeted by Shido . . . he realises that it’s likely that the director or Shido would try to have it wheedled it out from Sakura, or even Futaba herself. 

“Sae-san,” he interrupts, “Isshiki-san’s research and Futaba-chan’s adoption are being treated as two separate cases, right?” Knowing Sae-san, she isn’t the kind to allow them to take advantage of one case to get information on another. 

But her hesitation to respond says enough. 

“ _Sae-san._ ” Goro’s appalled. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re taking advantage of a hurt, _innocent_ child’s situation to further your investigation?”

“It’s not a path I want to take,” she snapped. “But failure to comply with the investigation would mean that we have no choice in the matter.”

Goro doesn’t know how to react. He can’t believe _Sae Niijima_ of all people would be willing to do something that _cruel_. “Goodnight, Sae-san.” He ends the call without waiting for a response from her. 

_There has to be a connection somewhere here, but what is it?_

Goro knows that ruminating on it isn’t going to get him anywhere now—all he can do is wait for answers and move forward. He sighs, and decides to turn in for the night.

* * *

_“Goro-kun, can you tell me what you saw?” The woman before him—Wakaba Isshiki—is eager, waiting for results as her pen hovers over her notepad._

_Goro doesn’t fully understand Isshiki’s research, but he has a gist of what’s meant to be happening to him. From what Isshiki’s told him, there’s another, parallel reality which people’s cognitions take form._ Cogito, ergo sum _, she would say._ I think, therefore, I am. 

_She says that it’s supposed to mean that because people can think, they know they exist. And that the thoughts that exist mean that an idea or a concept exists, because it exists within the mind._

_And the reality that she keeps talking about is apparently a dimension in which these thoughts that exist take shape, so it’s like being in someone’s mind._

_Goro thinks he kind of gets it, but he doesn’t really know how it works. Though he can’t say he really likes it. It feels wrong to go into someone else’s mind. He knows he would hate it if someone went into his head and looked through all his thoughts._

_And now, he’s just been in that parallel reality, which Isshiki-san called ‘Mementos’._

_Goro bites his lip. “Um. There was a lot of red. And there were these big . . . monster things. It looked like the Tokyo subway—I think it said Shibuya somewhere?—but there were a lot more floors than I think they should have been . . .” He fidgets with his fingers, still shaking slightly._

_“Shibuya station,” she repeats, pen scribbling furiously on the page. “Lots of floors, and monsters.” She looks up, gaze piercing through her glasses. “What were the monsters like?”_

_Goro shudders slightly at the memory. Isshiki doesn’t notice. “They were big and . . . monkey-like, I think. A little bit like those moneys in Temple Run. And all of them wore human skulls like masks and over their bodies.”_

_“Masks . . .” she repeats, and Goro can see from the motion of her pen that she’s circling the word multiple times. “That fits right in with the other things . . .” Her eyes flicker back to Goro. “Can you give me an idea of their general disposition? Tell me how they acted normally, then how they reacted when they saw you.”_

_Goro curls his hands into fists in his shirt to stop them from shaking. “Normally . . . they seemed calm, I guess,” he mumbles. “They kind of just . . . skulked around, but it felt a little like they were patrolling more than wandering.”_

_“And when they noticed you?”_

_Another shudder runs through Goro as he recalls. “It . . . it chased me. It was fast and it cornered me, then . . . it burst into red and black liquid and transformed into a big . . . slimy thing that stank of rotten meat and alcohol. Then it tried to attack me.”_

_Goro’s hand automatically makes its way to his stomach, where the creepy slimy thing had headbutted him in the stomach hard enough to knock him to his feet and pin him down._

_The smell had filled his nose, reminding Goro a little bit of the strange men that would show up at home to meet his mother before she ushered him towards the bathhouse nearby._

_“What did you do when it attacked you, and how did it react?”_

_Goro’s trembling now, and something sinks in Goro’s stomach at the fact that Isshiki doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by how shaken up he is. Stupid of him to expect she would care—to think it’s possible for someone to care about him._

_He’s a throwaway, unwanted child, after all. A curse on anyone who could ever be deceived into caring about him._

_His voice is hollow when he answers. “I tried to push it off me, but even when I punched and kicked it, it didn’t really do anything. It resisted it almost completely.”_

_“Slimy creature, resistant to physical attacks . . .” Isshiki mumbles, still taking notes. “Anything else?”_

_Goro shakes his head. “I managed to slip away before it could hit me again.” He doesn’t tell her that he almost died—it’s probably not something that’s important to her._

_The only reason that he’s here is because Isshiki had reasoned with his new foster family and promised he would be taken care of without any expense to them._

_They were all too happy to see him go, and Goro can’t deny that the feeling was mutual. The Tsubois were unpleasant at best—they made Goro sleep on the floor without a futon or mat to lay on, and only allowed him to eat whatever they didn’t finish at dinner. They yelled at him if he was in the way, and both adults had threatened to hit him on multiple occasions. Their son, a few years older than Goro, decided that Goro made for a good punching bag._

_Perhaps those experiences were what made it possible for Goro to slip away from the slimy monster today._

_Goro still doesn’t understand why they took him in if they hated him. Isshiki said on the first day she brought him back with her that she thinks they were being ‘financially compensated’ for it._

_Goro hadn’t understood what that meant, but she didn’t explain it to him—after that, he asked someone else what the words meant. They told him it meant to be paid for doing something._

_Goro thinks the Tsuboi family may have been financially compensated, too._

_But staying in the facility under Isshiki’s care is infinitely better than any of the foster families and orphanages ever were. She makes sure he gets two proper meals each day and that he was given a nice room in the research centre._

_His sheets are a soft shade of blue, and each wall is lined with ashwood bookshelves. There’s a desk next to his bed, and Isshiki even gave him a phone and a laptop so he could take online classes, since he isn’t allowed to leave the facility, even for school._

_But the best part, to Goro, is that he’s important here, at least to Isshiki. He knows she’s the one in charge of the research, and even though she has a lot of important things to do, she makes sure he’s still healthy enough to do these cognitive tests._

_Goro likes Isshiki, even if she doesn’t really care about_ him _._

_“Okay,” she says, after she finishes asking her questions and he’s corrected any of her misconceptions about the creepy red train station. “You’ve done very well today, Goro-kun. How about we go get some curry today? My treat for you being so brave.” She ruffles his hair affectionately._

_Goro nods eagerly, feeling like he’s about to combust. Isshiki was proud of him. Of_ him _! Maybe she cares about him after all! “Yes please!” Goro’s never had curry before; his mum never had much time to cook something that took so long, and none of the foster families he’d been with had cared to let someone like him eat nice food. The orphanages were worse._

_Not that the food they give him at the facility tastes bad, but it isn’t as fancy as curry. Mostly, they have rice, miso soup, salad, and meat cutlets, and sometimes the occasional natto (which always “mysteriously” appears outside Goro’s window)._

_Isshiki seems pleased with Goro’s enthusiasm, so he smiles even brighter, excited at the prospect of leaving the facility for the first time in these last six months._

_She takes Goro to her house, surprisingly enough. Goro notes that it’s around the skirts of an out-of-the-way station, the name of which Goro can’t quite recall._

_“Dinnertime! We have a guest over!” Isshiki calls out. Goro wonders briefly whom she’s addressing, but his question is answered when a younger girl that looks like a gremlin version of Isshiki with longer hair comes whizzing down the stairs._

_She seems to be holding some kind of tablet that she’s trying desperately to show Isshiki, who’s getting pans out of the kitchen. “Futaba,” Isshiki says in an attempt to distract her daughter (Goro thinks that’s her daughter, at least) “Why don’t you say hi to Goro-kun? He’s been helping me with my research.” She turns to Goro. “This is my daughter, Futaba-chan.”_

_Futaba hides her face a little with the tablet. “Heyo,” she says._

_“Hello,” Goro greets quietly._

_Isshiki seems to be aware of the tension. “Why don’t the two of you talk while I make the curry and call Sojiro over?”_

_Futaba brightens immediately. “Yayyy, Sojiro’s coming!”_

_“Who’s that?” Goro asks softly._

_“He’s Mom’s best friend and he’s the super-duper-best at making coffee!” Futaba lowers her voice, leaning in. “Also, I think he likes Mom, but don’t tell her that, since she doesn’t seem to know yet!”_

_Goro wants to tell her that even if he doesn’t tell Isshiki, there’s no way she wouldn’t have heard it now with how loud Futaba just said it. But he thinks that might sound a little rude, so he just says, “Huh.”_

_Isshiki says from the kitchen, “Oh, Goro-kun, I think you may have seen Sojiro around the facility every now and then.”_

_Goro isn’t allowed to see many people around the facility, other than the pediatricians who sometimes come by when he’s had a particularly strenuous training session or he’s fallen sick._

_“Futaba, why don’t you show him your app in the meantime?”_

_Her eyes brighten immediately. “Yeah!” She opens up almost immediately, delving into an impossibly long explanation of servers and hacking and different technological terms that Goro’s never heard before. It’s a little complicated, but she seems happy to answer Goro’s questions in the middle whenever he asks. He tries to put in his own ideas every now and again, and by the time Isshiki brings out the steaming plates of curry and rice, he feels like he could probably hack a police database._

_The curry, he learns, is absolutely delicious. He knows that Isshiki makes the best curry—sometimes, on good days when she knows he’s going to have to work hard, she brings some to the centre for him, but it’s never this fresh and warm there. Here, it’s a completely new experience, and it’s somehow even tastier._

_“Sho,” Futaba says through a mouthful of rice, “what’sh your full name? I’m Futaba Isshiki, and”—another bite of rice—“I’m ’leven yearsh old!”_

_Goro waits until he’s finished the bite in his mouth before answering. “I’m Goro Akechi. I’m thirteen.”_

_Isshiki’s phone starts ringing, and as she goes to answer it, Futaba grins at him, a little bit of rice stuck to her cheek. Again, she leans over the table, but this time, her voice is actually quiet as she says, “It’s nice to have a friend now. Mom thinks I have another friend but we had a fight and then she moved away, so I don’t think we’re really friends anymore . . . but! You’re gonna be my new best friend, Gorororororo!”_

_“Actually, it’s just Goro,” he corrects._

_“I know that, silly. It’s like a nickname! Like how Mom sometimes calls me Futaba-chan! You can call me that too if you want!”_

_Goro wants to point out that ‘Futaba-chan’ and ‘Gorororororo’ are nothing alike in terms of nicknames, but doesn’t say anything, instead finding happiness in that Futaba wanted to be his friend_

_“Anyway, you got a phone? Then we can text each other!”_

_Goro does have a phone—the one his mom used to own, and another, newer one that Isshiki gave him in case something “strange” happens in the facility when she isn’t there. He didn’t know what she meant by ‘strange’ at the time, but he was grateful for it._

_He gives his number to Futaba, who saves his contact as [GORORORORORO (NEW BEST FRIEND!!!✨✨✨]._

_In his phone, he simply saves her number as [Futaba Isshiki]._

_The doorbell rings at that precise moment, as though on cue. “Ah, Sojiro’s here!” Isshiki claps her hands together, opening it for a man with a pink shirt and a fedora._

_To his own surprise, Goro does recognise the man―he’s seen him talk to Isshiki outside his room on multiple occasions, bearing a nameplate that reads_ Sakura _. He’s tall and stands straight, with coiffed dark hair and a cleanly shaven face._

_“Yay, Sojiro! Gimme coffee!”_

_“Coffee?” Goro repeats. He’s heard of the drink before, but he’s never tried it. “Isn’t that unhealthy?”_

_“Not Sojiro’s coffee, he makes it the best! You just gotta ask him.”_

_Goro looks shyly at the man. “If it isn’t too much trouble,” he asks quietly, not wanting to overstep his boundaries with one of Isshiki’s colleagues, “may I try some?”_

_Sakura rests a hand on one of Goro’s shoulders, patting it lightly. “Sure thing, kid.” He then turns to Isshiki and says, more quietly, “This is the kid? He’s awfully quiet for someone his age―it’s worrying. You won’t even tell me his last name.”_

_Isshiki doesn’t humour him with a response, instead just shaking her head. Goro wonders if he shouldn’t have told Futaba his full name._

_When Goro sips from the mug Sakura places in front of him, he decides immediately that coffee is his favourite drink._

_“See? Told ya,” Futaba says imperiously, a coffee moustache having formed on her lip. Goro notes that she’s quite the messy eater._

_“You were right,” he agrees, then asks the question that’s been building in his mind for a while: “Is Sakura-san your dad?”_

_“Not like, actually. But he’s like a dad in my heart!” She smacks a fist against her collarbones, way off from where her heart actually is. “What about your parents? Do they know you’re at my house?”_

_Goro swallows. “No. I don’t have any parents. My mom . . . she died because of me. Some kind of neurosis from stress of having to take care of me on her own, I think.” He leaves out the part that she committed suicide because of him. “I don’t know who my dad is, but Mom said that it was better that way. I don’t think he was exactly a nice person, since Mom didn’t like him much.”_

_Futaba looks vaguely sad. “Oh. I’m, uh, sorry.”_

_Goro shakes his head. “It’s okay. It feels good to tell someone . . . to tell a friend.” He smiles somewhat bashfully, reaching to take another bite of the curry, only to realise that it was finished. “Oh.”_

_“Come on, Goro, time to leave,” Isshiki interrupts before Futaba can say anything. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”_

_“What are we doing tomorrow?”_

_Isshiki doesn’t answer, and somehow, it makes Goro feel nauseous._

_“Wakaba . . .” Sakura sighs. “You really think listening to that man is going to help?”_

_“It isn’t your concern, Sojiro.”_

_“Wakaba, look at the kid. It can’t be healthy—”_

_“There are plenty of doctors and psychologists there. Goro, now.”_

_Goro nods, getting up quietly. “Thank you for the coffee, Sakura-san,” he says._

_Sakura pats his head a little. “Don’t worry about it, kid. But . . . take care. Don’t push yourself too hard, and remember, you can always come here for a coffee, on the house.” He slips a small badge into Goro’s shirt pocket. “I’m opening up a cafe, so there’s your membership badge,” he says, cracking a small smile._

_“Thank you,” Goro says, because he isn’t sure what else he can say to that, especially since he may not be able to come back. He can’t leave the facility on his own, and by the time Isshiki’s research is done, he’ll probably never see Sakura again._

_“Bye, Futaba-chan,” he says, and to his surprise, she hugs him. “You have to text me, okay? Promise!”_

_“I . . . I promise,” Goro says._

_“Good! Oh, wait here!” she commands, then zips up the stairs and back down to press something into his hand: a small, chocolate egg sized Featherman figurine._

_“Grey Pigeon?”_

_“Yeah, you remind me of him!”_

_Goro wonders if it has to do with the fact that he lives in a literal research facility, but he doesn’t think Futaba knows that. Does he give off “research subject” vibes? Nonetheless, he thanks her and pockets it, then follows Isshiki outside._

_“Your family is nice,” he says quietly. He wonders if his mother would have liked Futaba, Sakura, and Isshiki. He thinks she would._

_Isshiki smiles at him. “You know,” she says, “you’re more than welcome to treat Futaba as your sister.”_

_“R-really? That’s not too invasive or anything?” A sister. He has a sister! A wave of happiness rushes through him—_

_Isshiki’s phone chimes, and when she looks at what set it off, she scowls, her mood instantly darkening. “You’ll go back into Mementos tomorrow,” she says abruptly, all trace of warmth from her voice gone. Then, more quietly, she mumbles something about “awakening” and “persona” and “shadows”._

Goro wakes up feeling more tired than before he slept.

* * *

On Sunday, Goro barely makes it in time to the place he’s meant to meet Sakura and Kurusu: a small cafe—hidden in the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya—called Leblanc. 

Luckily for Goro, Sakura doesn’t seem to have made it back yet, thanks to the delay in traffic from the subway crash. The subway _he_ crashed, thanks to one of Shido’s latest schemes. 

It was easy—all Goro did was use Loki’s Call of Chaos on the train’s engineer, and leave the Shadow in Mementos until it wore off. It wouldn’t kill the man; just make him go buckwild for half an hour, and he would be back to normal. 

Thankfully, it’s one of the few non-implicating requests from Shido, meaning that it would mean less paperwork for Goro at the police station. 

A car parks nearby, snapping Goro out of his thoughts, and a man that looks distinctly familiar steps out of the driver’s seat. _He still looks almost the same as he did four years ago_ , Goro can’t help but marvel. The only difference, perhaps, is that now his hair is slicked back and he’s grown a beard. 

The passenger door opens soon after, and out steps the alleged delinquent teenager in question: Akira Kurusu. He looks exactly as he did in his mugshot, right from the crystalline skin to the curly hair. 

Except, he’s wearing reflective glasses and Goro can’t see his eyes from here—

_There._

Kurusu lifts his head to look at Goro, and he can swear that something _sparks_ in Kurusu’s gaze when he meets his eyes, challenging and striking. They’re like a brewing storm, grey and ferocious; strong and defiant. 

And it absolutely _thrills_ Goro. 

Still, as the two approach, he bows politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been sent by the police department to help oversee Kurusu-kun’s probation in Tokyo.”

“I see,” Sakura says, voice gruff. He must have been informed beforehand. “But aren’t you a little young? You look like you could be in junior high.”

Goro can’t quite tell if it’s meant to be a joke. Certainly, his public image does lean towards a ‘cute teen genius’, but he’s fairly certain he doesn’t look childish. He’s taller than Kurusu by at least a few centimetres. 

More importantly, Sakura doesn’t seem to recognise him. Goro feels his stomach flip, and isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. “Is that so?” he answers, smiling. “I’m actually in my third year of high school—and I _am_ a part of the police force.”

Kurusu, who’s been quiet until now, finally speaks. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Sakura nods in agreement. “Yeah, he looks kind of familiar, doesn’t he?”

While it’s true that Sakura has a reason to remember Goro, Kurusu doesn’t. Yet somehow, Goro can’t shake the feeling that it’s true, and that he _does_ recognise Kurusu somehow, from somewhere. Like he’s _drawn_ to him. 

Of course, he isn’t going to tell him that, so he smiles placidly instead. “Ah, perhaps you’ve seen me on TV before. My side job as a detective and the uncommonality of my age has led to my having a few appearances in the media before.”

“That must be it,” Sakura says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced as he unlocks the door to the cafe. “Well, come in, and I’ll give you the full details about what happened and what you’ll be doing.”

Goro steps into the cafe with an odd sense of anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I really wanted to point out here is that since Goro takes the role of the protagonist here, he will be in possession of all the upright arcana -- while Akira will show them in _reverse_.


	2. Ace of Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ace of Wands represents success in new changes and signifies new opportunities, growth, and potential. 
> 
> When reversed, it symbolises an emerging idea, with a lack of direction and purpose, and stagnation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ : Akira _does_ have a panic attack in this chapter, so please be careful if that may trigger you!** It's written from Goro's perspective so it isn't particularly detailed, but please do be careful in case!
> 
> I haven't edited this chapter AT ALL so if there are any inconsistencies/typos/erros, feel free to let me know! I'll probably come back to edit it soon enough.

Leblanc has a very calming atmosphere to it, Goro thinks as he steps through the door. It’s not unlike the feeling of stepping into another world, perhaps one that’s the polar opposite of the Metaverse: where the cognitive worlds of Mementos and Palaces are distorted, scream-filled, and have a pervasive oppressiveness to them, Leblanc itself is soothing, quiet, and brings about an air of clarity. 

It’s the first place that feels welcoming to Goro in years. 

Unwittingly, he recalls that the last time was when he’d gone to Isshiki’s house all those years ago when she’d brought him home for coffee and curry. 

Sakura sighs. “Damn, to think there’d be that much traffic . . . What a waste of time. I wasn’t able to open the café today.”

Goro shifts a little, hyperaware of the badge in his pocket that he’d found on the sleeve of one of his old sweaters—the one Sakura had given him that one time. He isn’t quite sure why he brought it with him—perhaps, to re-establish some kind of connection? To gain Sakura’s trust? 

“I hear that it’s because of the recent rampaging accidents that have been occurring as of late,” Goro puts in, feeling the need to say something. “They’ve stopped operations in that particular station and are investigating the line itself to check the damage.”

“That so . . . ?” Sakura muses, but brushes it off quickly. Goro can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking of. “Well, whatever. Either of you hungry?”

Kurusu shrugs, not saying anything. 

_Sakura’s curry . . ._ The badge feels even heavier in Goro’s pocket, but . . . “I’m quite alright, but thank you for offeri—”

As if on cue, Goro’s stomach rumbles loudly, embarrassing him thoroughly. He can feel his face burn in humiliation. “Ah— forgive me, that was rather . . .”

He trails off, not because he’s at a loss for words, but because Kurusu laughs beside him. Quietly, and admittedly, it’s suppressed, but it’s a whole and fulfilling sound. The most _real_ laugh he’s heard in a long while. It’s . . . it’s nice. 

Sakura grins. “Don’t worry ’bout it, kid. It’s on the house.”

Goro waves his hands a little. “I couldn’t possibly impose—”

“Nonsense. And besides . . . I’m doing this more for myself.”

Goro decides not to question that, either. Instead, he seats himself on the barstool closest to the door, and Kurusu sits beside him.

 _For someone who appears so aloof, he’s remarkably . . . well, not open, but he’s surprisingly readable, or at least, willing to be read._ Not many people are like that. To Goro, there were only three types of people: those who wore their hearts on their sleeves, like his mother; those who wear masks of false convictions for the sake of power, like Shido; and rest of the nameless, faceless masses that couldn’t give less of a damn about the world.

Kurusu doesn’t seem to fit into any of these categories: he’s not unapproachable, but certainly not open enough to fall into the first; while he does seem to be masking himself, he doesn’t appear to have any malicious intent, marking out the second; and he’s far, far too striking and proactive (as per his legal charges) to lie with the apathetic generalisations of the third. 

Goro really wants to try and figure him out. See what makes him tick, to understand this new species of person. 

Instead, he takes a deep breath, turns to him, and puts on his most sympathetic smile. “I read your file,” he says carefully, “but I would like to hear the full story, directly from you. I find it . . . difficult to believe that a teenager would attack a rising politician for no reason.”

Sakura sighs from the background. “A politician, huh . . . I should’ve figured.” _For someone with a political background to say that, and Shido’s former intermediary at that? Interesting . . ._

“I didn’t _attack_ him.” Kurusu mutters darkly, scowling. “He was in front of me, harassing and touching a woman while trying to force her into his car. I just tried to pull him off of her. He was drunk enough to fall on his ass and hit his head, then he sued _me_ for assault.” 

Even though Kurusu’s words are even, Goro can tell that he’s seething beneath it. He can’t help but wonder how different Kurusu would look if he were to vocalise that raw, unbridled rage that simmers beneath the surface. 

For a brief second, he can even picture himself fighting beside Kurusu in the Metaverse. 

“So you were falsely accused, as I suspected . . .” Goro says quietly, then lets out a derisive snort. “Politicians have a separate level of egomania.” 

He said the right thing—it earns him an appraising glance from Sakura and an almost violent head jerk from Kurusu. “But you—aren’t you a _cop_?”

“Detective, actually. But my job as such only means I know more about _their_ inner workings and just how corrupt they can be.” Goro lowers his voice, choosing his words carefully. “As you’re well aware, they have both the influence and power to even force the police to frame innocents.” He shifts to look Kurusu in the eye. “Much like you, Kurusu-kun, who only tried to do the right thing . . .”

Kurusu just stares at him, and he can see _something_ going on behind the other’s eyes; can almost _feel_ the cogs turning as his stare pierces into Goro’s own. 

Goro wonders what Kurusu could be piecing together. Perhaps he’s contemplating the unjustness of society? The inherent cruelty of the world itself? Maybe he would be in agreement over how society was corrupt to the point where the only way to get by is to sacrifice your morals? 

Finally, Kurusu says, “You can call me Akira.”

It’s _miles_ off from what Goro had expected to hear, and before he realises it, a scowl has begun to form on his face, which he quickly attempts to cover up with a feigned sneeze. 

He could slap himself. Since that phone call with Sae, he’s been having these weird surges of a need for attachment—the same stupid sentimental reason he has that pin with him today. 

Loki murmurs something about loneliness, but Goro takes great pleasure in ignoring it. 

At the very least, though, Kurusu seems to want them to get closer, so perhaps that’s a start?

Why _is_ he so _desperate_ to get to know this random boy? He’s barely _known_ him for all of five minutes, for goodness sake. 

Kurusu, however, seems to have caught Goro’s abrupt change in expression, and turns his head so his glasses reflect the lights in the café, effectively shielding his expression altogether. 

Goro wonders if hiding his eyes is a defense mechanism. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says quietly. “I just thought it would be easier if we were on a first name basis.” 

_Well, Sae-san, looks like you’ve gotten what you want_ , Goro thinks absently. _I’m on a first name basis with someone my age._ He opts to ignore that it’s a decision he made solely out of spite for Shido. “My apologies, I didn’t take any offense—I was just a little surprised is all. Akira, then.”

Kurusu smiles in relief, and Goro can see the storms in his eyes melt into a cool drizzle. _So expressive_ , he can’t help but marvel. 

“So, _Akira_ ,” Goro begins, steepling his fingers, “as I said, I will be aiding Sakura-san in overseeing your probation.” He pauses for just enough time to seem as though he was choosing his words, like he hasn’t rehearsed them. “Though, there are a few things I think you should know beforehand—the first being that this request is entirely unofficial.”

“Unofficial?” Sakura echoes, not back in the front of the store, leaving both Goro and Kurusu a plate of curry each. 

Goro nods, taking a bite of the curry

_—tastes too familiar on his tongue, reminds him too much of—_

as he begins to explain. “Typically, only one probation officer is assigned to an individual. In Kurusu’s case, that individual would be you, Sakura-san.” He pauses, as though to hesitate, then continues, “This is more than I’m allowed to reveal, but . . .” Goro lowers his voice, playing up the cautiousness, “a request came in from a politician—unfortunately, I wasn’t told which one—to ‘keep an eye’ on you. Of course, I can only imagine that it would be the same one that sued you on false charges.”

Kurusu’s gaze flickers. “Why is he so bothered about _me_?”

 _Because you’re fascinating_ , Goro thinks, and almost ends up having to physically restrain himself. _Why does Kurusu make it so hard to focus?_

He can feel Loki laugh mockingly in the back of his mind. _Pointedly_ , even.

“Because,” Goro says, collecting himself, “politicians are all about face and reputation. If you pose a threat to either, you’re a danger. And besides,” another slight, careful pause before he lowers his voice again, “if the politician behind your arrest is the one I think it is . . .”

Kurusu and Sakura both lean in at the same time. “You know who it is?”

Goro leans back, unprepared for the sudden invasion of his space. “I _do_ have a slight suspicion,” he says, “but I will require both more input and investigation before Ican be entirely sure. How much of him do you remember?”

A lie, but quite a necessary one, both for his sake and Kurusu’s. Goro, of course, is fully aware that the dates and locations of Shido’s recent _trip_ coincide perfectly with the time and location of Kurusu’s arrest, but revealing that information is tantamount to admitting he was more involved than a mere investigation. 

Kurusu’s hands drift to his wrists, circling them lightly. “It’s kind of a blur,” he admits quietly, but not meekly in the slightest. “I . . . don’t really remember much of his face—he yelled something at me, so I kind of remember his voice, but it was slurred . . .”

Goro nods, and he wishes he was doing something other than eating curry; something that would make this feel less _personal_ , like taking notes or something along those lines. 

Instead, he continues to ask Kurusu questions about how it happened, about the arrest, the trial, the sentence. Of course, he’s more or less memorised the contents of Kurusu’s file by now, but he still doesn’t know how much of it was fabricated for Shido’s sake and how much was actually genuine, so getting a firsthand account from Kurusu himself is really the ideal situation. 

Plus, his voice is somehow relaxing to listen to. 

“How _exactly_ do you remember the incident itself?” Goro asks after Kurusu finishes recounting the trial and unfair sentence. 

Kurusu’s eyes shift to the counter, his head tilted downwards. “I . . . was going home late that day, and on my way home I just heard arguing. I got closer and saw some bald drunk guy forcing himself on a woman who lived in the neighbourhood. He was telling her to get in the car—by then I think someone had already called the police, but I didn’t know, and . . .” He trails off, gaze rooted firmly to his lap, where his hands clench into fists at the base of his shirt. 

Kurusu’s voice is thick and jaunty when he continues after a notably sharp inhale. “Th-they grabbed my wrists and cuffed me, then shoved me into the back of the police car. I think they asked me some questions in between, but . . .”

Goro leans down so he can see Kurusu’s face. “Do you remember what they asked you?” he asks with uncharacteristic gentleness, carefully trying to get into Kurusu’s line of sight without startling him or being too invasive. 

_This is another innocent person you’ve destroyed, Masayoshi Shido. You deserve every bit of what’s coming to you. I’m going to_ make sure _you see your end at my own hands._

Loki, for a pleasant change, is in agreement with this. 

Kurusu turns his head slightly, lifting his hands to ghost over his wrists, then grabs his arms. “I . . .” A flinch. “It’s all a blur. I—I’m sorry. I can’t really . . .” A shudder runs through him. 

“Kid?” Sakura looks up from the dishes he’s been washing, mild concern evident in his eyes. 

Kurusu gasps and clutches his head, shaking it. “I—”

A breath hisses through Goro’s teeth as he instantly realises what’s happening: _Kurusu’s having a panic attack._

Making a split second decision, Goro slides off the barstool, puts his hands on Kurusu’s shoulders, and crouches down to look him in the eyes. “Hey. Hey, Kurusu, listen to me. Look at me. _Akira._ ”

Kurusu’s gaze lifts slightly, seeming to register Goro’s presence on some level, but his hands are still pulling too roughly at his hair and the look in his eyes is filled with pure, raw _fear_ . “Am I . . .” His voice is hoarse. “Am I going mad? I’ve been seeing and hearing things, Shibuya _froze_ yesterday morning—”

“Sakura-san, water,” Goro says, keeping his tone calm and quiet, but firm nonetheless as he looks at the older man, who seems to have frozen in place. “Akira, look at me. _Look at me._ ”

Kurusu doesn’t, but at the very least, he lets go of his head. His hair is mussed and standing up in the wrong places. “This . . . Why? Not fair, I—I don’t _understand_ —I wasn’t—”

“ _Breathe._ ” Goro’s voice is steady, even. “Deep breaths. Slow down, and breathe, Akira.”

Sakura steps back in, a glass of iced water in one hand, the other hovering awkwardly around Kurusu’s back, as though he’s ready to physically console him but doesn’t quite know how. 

Slowly, Goro takes his hands off Kurusu’s shoulders, and pulls Kurusu’s right hand between his own gloved ones, nudging gently at his knuckles in an attempt to slowly uncurl his fists. Kurusu’s nails had carved little crescents into his palms, skin indented and flushed where Goro runs his thumbs over it. He recognises it absently as a method of grounding oneself before taking the glass from Sakura and wrapping Kurusu’s hand over it. 

The cold seems to bring some awareness back to him, at least. Slowly, Kurusu takes a shaky sip of the water. Goro doesn’t miss the way he shudders slightly as he inhales, before he closes his eyes and drains the rest of the glass. 

When he opens them again, they seem to have cleared up. “Thanks,” he says quietly, voice earnest. “I’m, uh— sorry you had to see that.”

It’s only now that Goro realises just how close he is. “Ah. Um. You’re welcome,” he says, quickly reseating himself. He pauses, trying to choose the right words, then says, “Thank you for trusting me.” He lowers his gaze to the table, careful to look as thoughtful as he can. “I think I know who’s responsible for your arrest. If it is who I think it is, though, he has the entire police force wrapped around his finger.”

Kurusu scrunches his nose. “He _did_ say something like, ‘the police are my bitches’,” he affirms. 

_Oh, that’s Shido, all right._ Goro knows all too well what Shido can be like behind closed doors, away from the eyes of the public: an arrogant, heartless, demeaning _snake_ all too aware of the disparity between his public and private faces, going so far as to mock the credulity of the people he fools. Of course, Shido’s careful enough to do it away from the ears of even his closest allies, but Goro’s been subjected to many of Shido’s various types of drunken rants—some of which have involved him ordering Goro to kill all of his competitors. 

Goro’s never been present for the majority of Shido’s meetings with his allies, for the sake of keeping the identity of Shido’s _most prized asset_ a secret from even his innermost circle, but he assumes that they’re all the same—sleazy old men with egos larger than their intelligence trying to compete by seeing who buys the most expensive alcohol to flaunt their power. (Goro can’t help but be smug about his status, can’t wait to see the look on Shido’s face when what he thinks is his obedient little puppet reveals his sins one by one.)

“ _Politicians_ ,” Goro just says, allowing some anger to seep into his voice. 

Sakura stops the conversation there. “Alright, that’s enough outta you two. I don’t want any more panic attacks tonight, so if the two of you could eat up quickly . . .”

Kurusu nods, but smiles gratefully at Goro. 

Goro can’t help but smile back. 

Kurusu, for some reason, doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he ducks his head, focusing instead on the curry in front of him. “It’s hot,” he says quietly, but eats it eagerly nonetheless. 

Goro, taking a bite of his, notes that it really isn’t that hot anymore. Perhaps a touch spicy, but teetering on the edge of warm rather than hot. Perhaps Kurusu has sensitive taste buds? 

Nonetheless, the rest of the curry is finished in silence, and while Sakura’s clearing the dishes, Goro turns to Kurusu.

“Thank you for telling me everything. I . . . can’t quite promise results quickly, given that my schedule is rather tight and getting acute evidence of a politician would be . . . difficult, to say the least.”

Kurusu shrugs. “It’s fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Goro looks at him. “It’s not about worrying about you. It’s about letting a _disgusting_ human being roam free to do as he pleases.”

 _That_ gets Kurusu’s attention, and his head snaps up to look at Goro. 

_And close it there, just enough to keep his interest._ “That aside, I’ll be dropping you off at school tomorrow, as per the request of one of my seniors, just to make sure you don’t, and I quote, ‘involve yourself in illicit activities’.” It’s a lie, of course. He’s going to go see if Shujin Academy’s principal has a Palace, and what he can learn from it. 

Besides, if what Kurusu says about feeling Shibuya freeze is true, there’s a chance he can get pulled into the Metaverse at some point, as had happened to Goro so many years ago.

“Oh. Sure.” Kurusu blinks a couple of times, then pulls out his phone. “What’s your number, then? It’ll be easier if I can contact you.”

Goro gives Kurusu his number, then saves Kurusu’s and Sakura’s, just to be safe. “I look forward to this year . . . Akira.”

There’s a look in Kurusu’s eyes that tries to fix Goro in place, tries to take him apart and put him together at the same time. “Me too, Goro.”

Something clicks in his head, something whispers and he feels words he hasn’t thought, as something new begins to form. He can’t hear the whispers but he can feel the words.

* * *

 _I am thou, thou art I.  
_ _Thou hast acquired a new vow._

 _It shall become the wings of rebellion_ _  
_ _that douses thy lights of falsities._

 _With the birth of the Justice Persona,  
_ _I have obtained the winds of blessing that  
_ _shall lead to freedom and new power._

* * *

He wonders, briefly, if Kurusu can feel it too -- but if he does, he gives Goro no indication.

Goro just smiles at him, thanks Sakura for the meal, and politely takes his leave from the homely cafe. 

He’s on the train to Kasumigaseki when his phone buzzes. 

> **_Akira Kurusu_ **
> 
> _have a good evening, goro!_
> 
> _ik i already said it, but_
> 
> _thanks for helping me earlier_
> 
> _yknow_
> 
> _with the panic attack and all_
> 
> No need to thank me, Akira.
> 
> Are you doing better now, though?
> 
> _oh my god you text like you’re_ _  
> _ _sending an email to a colleague_
> 
> _but! yeah i’m feeling better now_
> 
> _sojiro got me an ice cream bc_ _  
> _ _he felt bad :P_
> 
> _he’s a real… brojiro_
> 
> …
> 
> Goodnight, Akira.
> 
> _SKSJSKS NOO DON’T LEAVE ME_
> 
> _goodnight!_

Goro bites back a smile as he closes the log, then flips to another one, quickly reverting to business mode as he sees the sender.

> **_Sae Niijima_ **
> 
> _Goro-kun. You said you wanted_ _  
> _ _to meet tonight?_
> 
> Yes, regarding what you mentioned  
> the other day about the psychotic   
> breakdown incidents.
> 
> There are a number of potential  
> commonalities that I think can be   
> established.
> 
> Particularly, I’m curious as to  
> whether or not there could be some   
> sort of psychedelics involved within   
> them. 
> 
> _I’m at the station right now._
> 
> In that case, I’ll be there soon.
> 
> I’ll see you shortly.

Hearing and seeing his first name being used outside of anything other than official documentation still feels absurd, and now he already has two people doing it. Though, it’s one thing for Kurusu, who’s around his age, to use his name, and another entirely for Sae, his senior and colleague, and now . . . friend. _I wonder if I can convince her for sushi sometime . . ._

* * *

_When Goro opens his eyes, something feels unmistakably off._

_He’s in a vaguely familiar dressing room. It’s dimly lit, the walls a rich cobalt velvet. In front of him is a mirror, framed by cream coloured lights that glow just a little too brightly to be comfortable._

_Next to his reflection stands a . . . a_ person _, he thinks. The person stands tall, a little moreso than Goro, and has white-blonde hair that’s partially pulled back into some careless iteration of a bun. The rest of it hangs loose, falling until their shoulders. They seem almost too pretty to be human._

_Their golden eyes meet his, and they smile graciously. They don’t say a word, but the mirror falls down, to reveal a short, long-nosed man on the other side of the dressing table Goro’s seated at._

_“Trickster,” the man says, his voice low and deep, not matching his appearance in the slightest, “Welcome to my Velvet Room.”_

_Something about the room feels strange, like he’s been here many times before, like he’s seen this strange man and the other person before, like this place is somewhere he’s achingly familiar with._

_The other person says nothing, but nods, and Goro can feel them exuding a rush of energy._

_Unfazed, the man with the long nose continues, “Welcome. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality; mind and matter. It is a room that only those who are bound by a contract may enter.” He drums his fingers on the desk on the other side of the mirror._

_“I am Igor, the master of this place. Remember it well. I summoned you to speak of important matters. It involves your life as well.”_

_“Involves my life?” Goro repeats. There’s something strange here, something barely out of his reach. He doesn’t trust Igor anymore._

_Anymore?_

_What’s really going on here?_

_There’s no choice but to ask if he wants to find out. “Very well. What are these important matters?”_

_Igor chuckles quietly. “That compliance is a strange quality for a Trickster such as yourself to possess. But it comes as no surprise to me. The state of this room reflects the state of your own heart, after all. For a dressing room to appear as such . . . much more resides within you, does it not?”_

_Goro doesn’t say anything._

_Igor, at least, doesn’t seem to pay any heed to his silence. “In the near future, there is no mistake that ruin awaits you.”_

_That’s something Goro’s known since he was a child. Still, he asks, “What do you mean by ruin?”_

_Igor ignores the question altogether. “Worry not, however. There is a means to oppose such a fate. A performance, I believe, is in order, but every performance relies on the truth backstage. You must grasp that truth; must find the liberation in the freedom of improvised decisions, not recorded ones. That is your only means to avoid ruin.”_

_Igor’s definitely going overboard with the acting metaphors, Goro thinks, but doesn’t say._

_“Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?”_

_Goro thinks of everything he’s done to overturn the fate that had been handed to him. Every time he pushed back, challenged the ridiculous rules that had been imprinted onto everyone he’d ever met. Something vicious and heavy bubbles in him, and he smiles. His voice, when he speaks, is razor sharp. “Of course.”_

_Igor chuckles again. “Very well then. This performance is one I am quite looking forward to, then.”_

_The person behind Goro steps forward._

_“Ah, pardon me for not introducing him. Behind you is Clerval. He is your stylist, and as such, he will aid with your performances. I shall explain his role at another occasion.”_

_Clerval steps forward and hovers his hand over Goro’s right shoulder, just barely making sure not to make contact with the shirt that Goro’s wearing._

_Now that he’s looking at it, though, Goro can’t help but be taken aback by his attire. He’s dressed in what appears to be the most universal historical male outfit, with a white, ruffled shirt and a red cravat, maroon breeches, and black knee-length riding boots. There’s a scabbard around his waist, but it’s empty._

_Clearly bemused, the tips of Clerval’s lips quirk up slightly, but he doesn’t speak._

_“Now then,” Igor continues, a note of finality in his tone, “it seems the night is waning . . . it is almost time. Take your time to slowly come to understand this place. We will surely meet again, eventually.”_

_Clerval’s hand finally drops onto Goro’s shoulder, and with his touch comes a sudden clarity. The whispers in his mind take the form of Loki’s voice, which is then gone as suddenly as it came._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! So, I know it's been an incredibly long time since I've updated, and it may be yet longer before I can post the third chapter, but irl stuff has me REALLY busy as of lately, and I need to focus on that before I can sit down and take the time to write as frequently. Thanks for your patience! Remember, sneak peeks are frequent on the Discord server, and if you wanna hear me scream even MORE about shuake, I'm @emerald_heart12 on Twitter!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want previews and fun discussions about this, why not join the [Discord server](https://discord.gg/EVvpkc7)? :3 You can also find me on [Twitter at @emerald_heart12](https://twitter.com/emerald_heart12)~


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